


The Very Self of the Storm

by the_rck



Series: If You Don't Look Back, the Future Never Happens [1]
Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Amnesia, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past non-consensual drug use, non-specific past torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-08-16 08:26:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8095039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_rck/pseuds/the_rck
Summary: Lex wakes in pain in a strange place with no idea how he got there or how much time has passed.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Martianico](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Martianico/gifts).



> Thanks to dancingdragon3 for first reading/beta reading and canon help.
> 
> Title from "From the Misery of Don Joost" by Wallace Stevens.

Lex hurt. Pain filled his awareness, pushing out everything else. At least, he thought there was something else, something beyond the pain. There had to be. He was pretty sure he wasn’t screaming, but he wasn’t at all sure why. _Maybe it doesn’t help?_

He couldn’t see, so he tried to focus on his hearing. He thought he remembered sounds, not just as something that used to happen but as something happening now. 

There was a steady, quiet sound that he thought might be a fan or some other sort of thing moving air. It wasn’t loud enough to be a whoosh, but it was very definitely there. He also heard a soft beep at very regular intervals. _A hospital? A hospital would be… better than the alternatives._ He held that thought tight.

He didn’t think there was anyone in the room-- was it a room? --with him. The relief he felt at that realization startled him. He tried to explore that, to figure out why, but that was much worse than paying attention to the pain in his body, so he stopped.

It occurred to him that maybe he couldn’t see because he hadn’t opened his eyes. That seemed wrong somehow, and again, he didn’t want to look closely at why, but when he tried to open his eyes, he was actually able to see for a moment before the light overwhelmed him. He struggled to keep his eyes open long enough to adjust to the light, closing them when he had to but opening them again as soon as he could.

He hadn’t quite managed it when he heard the sound of approaching footsteps and froze. His instinct was to pretend to be unconscious. _I’m Lex Luthor. I face things. Even terrible things._ He forced his eyelids open and started trying to turn his head.

“Lex?” The voice was quiet enough that, had Lex been sleeping, it probably wouldn’t have awakened him.

 _Clark? That sounds like Clark but not… Too tired. Too old. Not Clark. Not._ Lex managed a small noise in response, a noise that he was quite sure didn’t sound anything like ‘Clark.’ 

The footsteps came rapidly closer. “I’m sorry. I don’t dare give you anything for the pain because I don’t know what shit they were pumping into you.”

 _So he thinks he rescued me from something. Did he?_ Lex didn’t think he could look very hard at that, either. He blinked a few times and managed to bring the other man into focus. _He looks like Clark. He’s too old to be Clark. Clark’s younger than I am, and I’m-- I’m-- No. I can’t._

Not-Clark leaned over and touched Lex’s shoulder. “Is it worse when I touch you? If I can get you sitting up, I can give you water. I didn’t want to try an IV, not given-- Well, not given.”

Touching wasn’t worse, but Lex was pretty sure he couldn’t speak, and shaking his head was beyond him, too. He just kept his eyes fixed on Not-Clark’s face and hoped that the other man would see the lack of additional distress. _But I hurt beyond-- I never thought-- Not physically, anyway._

Not-Clark hesitated. Then he sighed. “I suppose I have to. I just hoped…” He shook his head.

Sitting up did hurt more. Lex was absolutely sure he couldn’t have done it without help. Not-Clark was gentle, at least. And Lex tried not to think about why that might surprise him. Now that he was sitting up, he could see that the room was too large even for the sort of hospital room that a Luthor might expect. Lex lay in a bed with blankets over him. _Clean blankets. Warm blankets. Why--_ His body tried to draw in on itself, and that made him scream.

“Lex--” Not-Clark sounded near panic. He sat on the edge of Lex’s bed and pulled Lex into his arms.

Lex flinched from the physical contact, and that hurt more. He closed his eyes and forced himself to take deep breaths and to relax his muscles. That helped, but he didn’t really relax until Not-Clark stood up and moved away. _That was… How often have I been in pain like this to know how to respond? And why don’t I remember…?_

Rather than look at that, Lex studied the other man as he filled a cup with water and retrieved a straw. _He does look like Clark. Older, and very, very tired and… What the hell has he seen to look so defeated? Clark never looks defeated. It’s part of why I-- No._ At least that pain was familiar enough to be comfortable.

Lex drank the water even though it was cold enough to make his teeth ache. He was pretty sure he needed it. _And it’s trivial, really, next to the rest._ He kept his eyes focused on Not-Clark’s hands as the other man held the cup for him. Looking at the other man’s face was simply too unsettling.

“More?” Not-Clark asked when Lex had drained the cup. Not-Clark smiled as if he really did like Lex. “I promise I’ll get you to the toilet if you need it. No bedpans.”

Lex closed his eyes for a moment as he tried to decide how to respond. _I need more water. At least, I think I do. And I can’t get it myself. I’m going to have to keep relying on him and hope that he doesn’t-- Is he related to Clark? Maybe a cousin? An uncle? Is he old enough to be Clark’s birth father?_ He couldn’t remember what the people he'd had looking into Clark's pre-adoption history had found. That bothered him, but he didn’t think he had time to worry about it. 

_Which will hurt more, nodding or trying to talk? I need to talk more than I need to move, and I really, really need to be able to move._ Lex considered that. _I guess I do-- almost-- trust him. Is it because he reminds me of Clark?_ He worked his jaw a little. That hurt, but he didn’t think it was enough worse to worry about. It took three tries before he managed to get a word out. “More.” He hoped that the other man would understand that ‘please’ was beyond what he could manage just now.

As Lex sipped from the second cup of water, Not-Clark said, “I’m really sorry it took me so long to find you.” He looked away. “I’d kind of stopped thinking I’d find you alive.”

 _He sounds like that hurt. Why should he care? Do I actually know him and not remember?_ Lex really didn’t like how vulnerable that made him. _How will he react if he figures out I don’t know who he is? Maybe it’s a good thing I can’t really talk. Yet. I will be able to, right?_ He looked down at his arms. He could manage that much without moving his head.

Lex wore what he thought was a hospital gown, just with longer sleeves than he expected. The exposed skin on Lex’s arms was criss-crossed by scars so fine that, at first, he wasn’t sure what he was seeing. There was also a large bruise at the bend of each arm. He didn’t want to think about those, so he focused on the scars. He blinked twice just in case it was a problem with his eyes. _It looks kind of like I lost a fight with a screen door. I should remember that. Or something to explain those. How much time have I lost?_ He felt a little sick. _Something terrible happened. Maybe more than one thing. Maybe…_ His stomach heaved, and he very deliberately turned his thoughts away.

Not-Clark still wasn’t looking at Lex. “After all the dead, you’d think it wouldn’t hurt so much.” The words were just loud enough for Lex to hear them, and he rather suspected they weren’t meant for him. Not-Clark turned to face Lex. “They still can’t find us here, and if they do find us, I don’t think they can get in.”

 _If he was Clark, that expression would mean he was hiding something. What? No, what he said implies things bad enough. I don’t want to know._ Lex wanted desperately to close his eyes again and to hope that things were back to normal when he woke. _But a dream wouldn’t hurt this damn much._ He felt like sand was running through his veins or maybe shattered glass.

“I’m thinking that I should just go out and bring anyone I find back here. I just… don’t know. I’m not sure if I have the resources to feed more than, maybe, twenty people, not as a forever thing anyway, and that doesn’t change anything.” Not-Clark’s voice almost broke. “Except… It would make a difference for those people, and maybe we’d find some sort of solution to the food problem later on.” He looked at the now empty glass. “More?”

Lex considered water rather than Not-Clark’s words. Part of him wanted to pull the threads apart, to make plans, to find solutions, but he could tell that doing that would lead him to places in his head that he really didn’t want to go. _What the hell happened?_ He licked his lips and tried to judge how dry his mouth was. He considered the state of his stomach. _No good if it all comes back up._

He inhaled and braced himself. “Later.” He’d expected the word to be more difficult, but it wasn’t as much so as he’d feared. _Maybe I’ll be able to talk soon. Can I keep him from realizing that I don’t--? I don’t know who he is._ He really didn’t want to think that he should-- could-- know, but he was starting to suspect that he ought to. _Maybe he’ll keep talking, and I can figure out what’s going on? But…_ He didn’t want to know, and he thought that that ought to bother him more.

Not-Clark stood and took the glass back to the sink. He rinsed it and set it upside down to dry. He turned back to look at Lex and didn’t say anything for a while. “Is it better to go down fighting? I-- we-- used to think that, but I really… I shouldn’t be asking you that when you’re… like this.” Not-Clark straightened up and squared his shoulders. “I’m just-- I haven’t always needed to be strong with you, not like with everyone else.” He looked away. “When I-- When I thought you were dead, I started wondering if I could find a big enough piece of kryptonite to-- Well, you’re alive.” There was an intensity in his eyes when he turned them on Lex again that was very near to terrifying.

 _Oh. Oh. He doesn’t just_ like _me. It’s as if I’m all he has. Can I carry that for anyone? He’s_ not _Clark._ Lex was starting to wonder about that, but he wasn’t quite ready to consider the alternative as something real. _If-- If he were, it would mean-- He said everyone’s dead. Everyone? And what the hell is kryptonite?_ He had a feeling he should know. He also had a feeling that looking at that puzzle was a lot safer than anything else he might allow into the front of his mind.

Lex made a great effort and raised his right arm in Not-Clark’s general direction. His muscles felt like they hadn’t moved in hours-- _Days? Weeks?_ \--but the pain didn’t worsen. _Maybe… I could walk? Would my legs hold me?_ His arm only stayed up for about five seconds before the effort became too much. He sagged backward into the pillows Not-Clark had used to prop him up. _No walking. Not yet._

Before Lex’s arm fell entirely, Not-Clark was there and had taken Lex’s hand gently in his. “I’m not leaving you, Lex. Not now. Not ever.” He bent over, raised Lex’s hand to his lips, and kissed each finger in turn.

 _Oh._ Lex felt his eyes widen. _And he called me ‘Lex.’ He knows who I am. A lot of people don’t think I’m worth that. Why can’t I remember?_ For the first time, he thought that something he couldn’t remember might be worth the pain he was certain lurked in his mind. _Is ‘might’ enough?_ His stomach clenched, and he suspected that whatever part of him had decided not to remember didn’t think so.

“I’ve got everything set up so that I can stay with you right now,” Not-Clark said. “The Fortress pretty much runs itself, and… There’s nothing I can actually do outside now. When I try, they just murder people, lots of people.”

 _The Fortress? I’m supposed to know what that is. Well, the name carries certain implications._ “Who?” Lex could barely force the word out, and he wasn’t entirely certain what he meant by it. _But apparently I’ve decided to trust him. I shouldn’t, but what choice do I have? Pretending I remember might be safer. I just don’t know if I can. There have to be months-- Not years. No. Not years-- I’m missing._ He was pretty sure that it had to be years, but that thought made him feel like he was standing on a crumbling ledge over an abyss with no path to safety. _But years would explain why he looks so old… Maybe he is Clark._ He tried to pretend he hadn’t had that thought because it made his metaphorical ledge crumble further.

Maybe-Clark sighed and closed his eyes. He looked as if he’d given up hope a long time ago. “Just strangers, Lex. Just strangers.” He sat down on Lex’s bed again. “I was afraid-- If they’d realized what you mean to me, even that I know you at all--” His face set in grim lines. He pressed his lips together as if he was afraid that speaking would make what he said reality. 

_If they did-- No. I don’t know._ Lex felt like his mind was trying to turn itself inside out. He swallowed hard and tried to find another way around the topic. _Whatever happened was bad, but it sounds like… It could have been worse? I don’t want to think about worse._ Part of his mind felt red hot, too much to touch. He tried to find the edges of that space. _I am-- was? --twenty four? I think so. Is that the last safe time? What happened after that?_

“Who--?” Lex tried again. He still wasn’t sure what he was asking, but he had to think that any information Maybe-Clark might give him could help fill in the picture without requiring Lex to look at whatever was hiding in his mind.

“I think they did recognize you.” Maybe-Clark’s muscles went tight. “They just didn’t know we are-- They might not have hurt you if they’d realized, if they’d guessed that I would-- I know you said I mustn’t, not ever, but I _would_. We both know that.” He cleared his throat but didn’t say anything else for a moment. “As far as I can tell, they were just trying to hurt you. I’m sure it wasn’t anything worse.”

Lex’s mind stuttered to a stop at the idea of ‘worse.’ He closed his eyes and wished again for sleep. The pain was bad enough, though, that he knew he’d never sleep, not without drugs. _And he said he couldn’t give me anything because he didn’t know what else I’d been given. Is this all from drugs or--_ He forced his fingers to close on the blanket that covered him. His tug was too weak to accomplish anything but getting Maybe-Clark’s attention. “See!” Lex said with as much authority as he could manage. The cough when his throat protested all of the talking he’d been doing severely undercut that, in his opinion.

Maybe-Clark shifted so that he wasn’t sitting on the blanket then folded it back so that Lex could see his own lower body. “There are bandages under the gown. Nothing serious. They don’t seem to have done anything to your legs except strap them down. I think, once the drugs clear, you’ll be okay.”

Lex was pretty sure that Maybe-Clark was softening things for him. _Is he sure the drugs_ will _clear?_ The thought of this pain never stopping made him shake, and he suppressed a sob. _And ‘nothing serious’ can cover anything at all. Well, anything that will heal._

Maybe-Clark touched Lex’s leg. “There are scars I don’t recognize.”

 _And that must be one of them._ The scar Maybe-Clark had drawn Lex’s attention to looked ugly, long and knotted. _Like it got close to healing and then--_ Lex swallowed hard and tried not to think about how he’d know that. _More than once, probably._ His stomach twisted, and he just barely kept the water down. He couldn’t keep a sound of pain from coming out.

"You’re going to be okay, Lex," Maybe-Clark’s voice was soothing and very familiar. He spread the blanket over Lex’s legs again and put one of his hands over Lex’s. He studied Lex’s face. "Maybe… I don’t think talking about this is doing us any favors. I know you probably can’t sleep, but—" He smiled as if an idea had occurred to him. "—I could read to you. We got a lot of books before— Before." His smile vanished. He stood. "I won’t be five minutes."

Lex wanted to tell him to stay and wanted to tell him to take his time. Lex didn’t think his own thoughts would be good company. _But, if I’m alone, I can pretend all of this is just a nightmare. I ought to be thinking, planning, something, but, if he’s telling the truth, there’s nothing either of us can do. Nothing._ His hands tried to clench as he watched Maybe-Clark— _Probably Clark._ —leave the room.

Lex closed his eyes and wished he could get enough distance from the pain to be able to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I have some very specific ideas about what's going on, but I realized that none of it actually mattered for the story. I also have some ideas about what comes after this, but I thought that would run extremely long, too long to finish, and would likely not be exactly darkfic.


End file.
